


Better

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey always makes Chris feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of hurt/comfort, because I'm a sap. Set during the PopOdyssey tour when Chris had the broken wrist.

He won't admit that he's in pain. When the show is over and they're in the bus, on the way to the next city, he grits his teeth and lays in his bunk, trying to ignore the radiant ache in his arm -- already throbbing from the knitting bone in his wrist and now additionally stressed from a 90-minute show performed to exacting perfectionism. He doesn't want to take a painkiller; he doesn't like the way it makes everything fuzzy, not quite solid. So he lays there and reads email, talks to his mom, anything to distract himself from his hurting arm.

When they get to the hotel, he makes it to his room undisturbed -- JC and Justin are well aware of his mood, and they warn the others off, for which he is quietly grateful. Despite this, there is a knock on the door soon after their arrival. Chris snarls even as he goes to answer it. Joey stands in the hallway, smiling. Chris is tempted to close the door in his face.

"Not in the mood, Fatone," he says instead, half a snarl. Joey shrugs, pushes past him into the room. Letting the door swing shut, Chris turns to watch as Joey turns off the TV, cleans off the bed.

"Fatone," Chris says again, reprovingly.

Joey pulls back the sheets and sits down, patting the mattress beside him. Groaning, Chris stomps over and flings himself down. He knows he's being petulant, but right now he really doesn't care. "There," he mutters. "Happy?"

Joey reaches for Chris's hand and at first Chris jerks back; he's finally given in and taken something, but it hasn't quite kicked in yet, and his arm still aches. Joey doesn't let go, though. His fingers are strong and firm on Chris's hand above the cast, pressing evenly into hot, aching muscle, between bone and tendon, massaging. Relaxing. Chris lets out a whimper despite himself as -- finally, blessedly -- the pain begins to ease, receding with tantalizing slowness. Chris knows he's muttering things about how good it feels, how Joey's a god and his hands are incredible, and he just lets his mouth run.

"Better?" Joey asks a bit later, soft-voiced. Chris nods and keeps his eyes downcast. He doesn't want Joey to see the tears of relief in his eyes. Joey's thumb and forefinger close on his chin, tilt his face up and he leans breathless into the kiss.

"Don't have to be such a miserable bastard all the time," Joey mutters. Chris hears his own laughter, although he doesn't recognize it at first. He smacks Joey on the shoulder but Joey's already pressing him back on the bed, kissing him again, sweet as honey, urgent and demanding. Chris puts his arms around Joey's neck; the cast scrapes sensitive skin and Joey growls a "Fuck!" into Chris's mouth. Chris grins -- "'s what you get for calling me a miserable bastard" -- and can't believe how much better he feels.

* * *

"I'm sorry," he says later, when they're laying naked under the sheets, his cast tucked considerately below the pillow. Joey shrugs, tracing the line of Chris's jaw with one finger.

"Don't worry about it," he says.

"But. You know. For snapping at you."

"You were hurting. It's not a big deal," and Joey dismisses the matter with another soft kiss. "As long as I can make it better, that's all I care about."

"You can always make it better," Chris whispers against Joey's lips, and he doesn't mind the fuzziness of the painkiller now because there's no better place to be warm and drowsy, on the edge of sleep, than in Joey's arms.


End file.
